Of Names and Angels
by truenarnian
Summary: A Master one shot for Quizilla user SouthParkFan91. Enjoy!


"Gillian!" the Master greeted warmly. "How is my lovely, smiling angel today?"

I smiled appreciatively. "Very well," I replied. The Master came fully into my favorite room on the aircraft carrier Valiant: the greenhouse. He followed the stepping stone path to where I stood, watering the violets. He wrapped his arms around me and I added, "How many months have we been up here?"

"About four," he answered. The watering can dangled from one hand as the other cupped his neck, nearly dropping it. "The Doctor is being his usual, stubborn self."

"Oh, it's okay," I soothed as we stepped away from each other. "He'll have to crack sooner or later."

"It's not him I'm worried about," he said. "It's his friend Martha Jones that concerns me." He gestured to the watering can in my hand. "May I?"

"Of course." I passed him the red plastic can and we began walking, the Master pouring a steady trickle of water on the flowers bordering the path. "What's so worrying about Martha Jones?"

"The Doctor saw her fit to travel with him," the Master answered. "He does love those grubby little humans."

"Excuse me?!"

"I'm sorry, dear. You're not entirely human, I didn't think it would offend you."

I bit back a retort and instead took the watering can from him; the flowers on the other edge of the path should at least get _some_ water. "Why does it matter if the Doctor traveled with Martha?"

"It doesn't matter that she did; what matters is that she _escaped._ And anyone the Doctor travels with is dangerous, and now that I've let her loose, there's no knowing what damage she can do."

"Can you track her down with the Archangel Network?"

"She's too smart to carry a mobile phone on her. I've put the word out to find her, and she's still the UK's Most Wanted, but she's clever. I've had people doing research on her, look up her exploits with the Doctor in the past."

"What have you found?"

"Well, the records are pretty damaged, but we've been able to find evidence of her in London, 1913 for two months, masquerading as a maid; in New York City, 1924, where she apparently found a way to use lightning to kill half-pig half-human hybrids; and in London 1969 for a few weeks, where she was stranded with the Doctor without his TARDIS." He snuck a mischievous glance at me. "I'm sure you remember that one—it was your cousins that sent him there."

"What?" I asked, a glimmer of hope flaring up inside me. "There are some survivors? More Weeping Angels?"

"Yes, it was a house in London," he replied. "He trapped them, though—he got them all looking at each other, so they can never move again."

"We can move them over, free them!" I said excitedly. I dropped the watering can and tugged on the Master's hand, pulling him towards the door. Finally, survivors of one of my ancestor species!

Yeah, I'm part Weeping Angel. I have no idea how it happened, but now that I knew they weren't all gone, maybe I could get some answers.

"Gilly," the Master said, halting me. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" I said, bewildered.

"Because they might not recognize you as one of them and send you back in time," the Master explained.

"Just use the Doctor's TARDIS!" I exclaimed desperately.

"It's not a TARDIS anymore, it's a Paradox Machine!" He sighed. "Gilly, I'd let you go there in a heartbeat, but it just isn't safe for you."

I was about to let loose a stream of cursing that would make a pirate blush, but a loud siren interrupted my thoughts. "Oh, no," the Master said. "The Joneses are trying to escape again." He said it as if it were an everyday occurrence—they _did _attempt escape rather often. "Let's go, Gilly."

He took my hand and we left the Valiant garden, interlaced fingers swinging between us. "What will you do to them this time, Master?" I asked. My question brought him up short.

He turned to me and said, "Gilly, my real name isn't 'The Master'." He exhaled shakily. "I've never told anyone this before, but I want you to call me by my real name."

I took his hands into both of mine. "What is it?"

He hesitated. "Koschei," he said, looking incredibly relieved once his name was in the air. "My name is Koschei."

I smiled. "Well, Koschei," I said. "Shall we go see what nonsense the Jones family has stirred up for us?"

"I'd be delighted," the Mas—Koschei said.


End file.
